


Rainy Days

by cowboykylux



Series: If The Creek Don't Rise [29]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Lazy Mornings, Married Couple, Married Life, Slice of Life, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: Clyde loves this, mornings like these. He loves the power and awe of a thunderstorm on the horizon. He likes to catch the moments when the rain hits, falls in one big sheet. As a kid, he used to chase the edges of the rain, used to hunt for the end of the storm.Now, he isn’t so adventurous. Now all he wants is to sit on the porch with you.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Series: If The Creek Don't Rise [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/927228
Kudos: 13





	Rainy Days

He wakes you up with hushed excitement, one morning. You’d been in a pleasant dream, but it doesn’t really matter, nothing mattered more than the sight of your sleep-rumpled man smiling down at you from where he’s propped himself up on his arm.

“You hear that?” He asks, boyish charm and wonder across his face.

“Hmm, what honey?” You ask right back, not awake enough to register anything other than the kisses he presses to your lips.

“C’mon, darlin’, c’mon.” He urges, and you laugh softly, grin as you stretch and pop your joints and grumble _alright alright_ playfully.

It’s pouring rain out in the distance. Clyde can hear it, can hear the rumble of the earth where the rain beats down on it. All through the house is a grey wash of light, a misty morning outside. There ain’t no birds chirpin’, or frogs croakin’, or trees creakin’ in the wind. Nothin’ but the sound of far-off rain.

Rain that won’t be far off for long.

Clyde loves this, mornings like these. He loves the power and awe of a thunderstorm on the horizon. He likes to catch the moments when the rain hits, falls in one big sheet. As a kid, he used to chase the edges of the rain, used to hunt for the end of the storm.

Now, he isn’t so adventurous. Now all he wants is to sit on the porch with you, y’all snuggled up under a quilt his grandma made him a lifetime ago. You’re on the porch, sittin’ on the big swing he and Jimmy set up, your head pillowed on his chest and his arm slung around your shoulders.

Clyde breathes in the crisp morning air, listening to the sound of the rain. He smiles, watches as it creeps closer closer closer, until you both look up on instinct at the roof of the porch, the sound of heavy water hitting it making you smile at one another. You know no water is gettin’ through, not through the porch your Clyde built.

“This is real nice.” Clyde whispers when you cup his cheek in your palm, whispers so quiet that it almost gets lost in the rain.

“Yeah, it is.” You agree, still half asleep but so in love, so happy to be with him, happy to see him happy. “Want anything special for breakfast honey?”

His stomach is growling, and so is yours, but it’s not important. In a little while you’ll make coffee and some hearty food for your hearty man. For now, he takes in a deep lungful of the mountain air, exhales out the last lingerings of his own sleep.

“Whatever you make’ll be perfect.” He kisses your temple, and you hum a little, shuffle impossibly closer to him.

“Do you have to go into the bar today?” You ask, tucking the quilt up around y’all’s’ shoulders so he doesn’t get cold. He tended to run hot, but with the drop in temperature the rain brought, you didn’t want him gettin’ any kind of chill.

“Weather like this, I’m thinkin’ no.” He says, resting his head on top of yours, kissing your hair before nuzzling his cheek onto you. “I’ll call up the other bartender, he’ll be just fine. It is a Sunday after all.”

“Does that mean – ” You ask excitedly, and he laughs, laughs at how eager you are to keep him all to yourself for the whole day.

“I call bein’ the big spoon.” He teases, and you laugh too, as if you’d have it any other way.


End file.
